


he had always loved the cold

by moxibeth



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Anxious Jimmy Kent, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Smoking, drunk jimmy cuz we all need a bit of that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxibeth/pseuds/moxibeth
Summary: ♡ "it's not against the law to hope, is it?"♡♡ jimmy kent has freakouts. overwhelming, heavy attacks of dread and fear. but no one knows. he covers it all with a confident attitude and silly flirting, and that's how he's always managed in life. when jimmy accepts a job at the lavish downton abbey, he has no idea that a certain under-butler would impact his life as much as he did.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow & Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	1. ☏ arrival ☏

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is the first chapter of this new work i'm starting. hopefully by the time this is finished, the downton abbey/thommy fandom will still be alive :,)
> 
> anyway, i hope people enjoy this, since i certainly enjoyed writing it. i have big plans for places it'll go.
> 
> thanks!
> 
> \- harper :)

The sky was grey, grey like it was most days in a Yorkshire winter. The looming trees were frosty, sparkling in the afternoon sun. Jimmy Kent had never liked the cold. He tightened his grip around his own chest and coat as he shivered, walking towards the grand Downton Abbey. He trekked towards the side servant’s door, nose reddened from the crisp air. The snowflakes fluttered, fell, and died on the ground. He could barely feel his feet now, and his fingers had been chilled numb a long time ago. 

Finally, he had reached the door. Reaching out a shaky hand, he turned the doorknob and stumbled inside. The sounds of clattering dishes and the feeling of movement filled the air. The area had such a warm smell, maybe of baked bread? Jimmy wasn’t too sure. It had been a moment since his last good, proper warm meal. He took a few steps down the short entryway until he had reached the servant’s hall. 

The room was murky, almost, but felt cozy and warm. A long wooden table stretched out in the center of the room, and the walls surrounding it were covered with shelves, pots, pans, and other things made useful by the staff. As soon as he set foot into the room, all faces in the room turned to him. He felt the heavy gaze of the maids, eyeing him up and down. Normally this would flatter him, but for now he was just too tense about his upcoming interview, happening in near minutes.

“Hullo.” Jimmy said nervously, glancing around the room. A moment of silence passed as Jimmy awkwardly stood there, looking around at everybody. 

“Can we help you?” a fine faced woman asked him. She was very kind looking. Jimmy smiled, regaining an ounce of confidence.

“I’m here to see Mr. Carson.” he informed. A man turned the corner, entering the room. He turned around to look at Jimmy, and looked rather confused about Jimmy’s being there. He was tall, but not slender or lanky. He was actually fairly well built. He had a chiseled face with high cheekbones, and quite frankly was a bit intimidating when first looking at him. His hair was jet black, and pomaded smoothly. 

“Who’s this?” he questioned, eyeing Jimmy up and down.

“Jimmy Kent, at your service.” Jimmy stated calmly, and gave a little smile. This man didn’t seem to be very trusting, but his slightly threatening characteristics faded a bit after he smiled back at Jimmy.

“I’m Mr. Barrow, his lordship’s valet.” he clarified, and Jimmy gave him a nod and a smile.

“And I’m hoping to be his lordship’s footman, which is why I’m looking for Mr Carson.” Jimmy repeated. His confidence was dwindling now, thinking about his upcoming interview.

An older woman walked in, ready to give out orders and instructions, but upon seeing Jimmy, she paused.

“May I help?” she asked him. Jimmy wondered how many times he would have to explain his reasons for being at the house, but he replied with a smile.

“I’ve come for the interview.” he explained. The woman nodded, and escorted him away to Mr. Carson’s office. 

a few hours later

A beautiful darkness fell over the estate as day faded to night. Jimmy sat on the edge of his new cot, in his new room, in his new home. He was still in shock that he had gotten the job, and his heart felt tingly thinking about it. The hour was late, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. He paced around his room a bit, reorganizing the few belongings he had in his new drawers a couple times. He sang quietly to himself, remembering the words to a song he loved.

“Never saw the sun shining so bright,   
Never saw things going so right.  
Noticing the days hurrying by,   
When you’re in love, my how they fly.

Blue days, all of them gone,  
Nothing but blue skies, from now on.

I never saw the sun shining so bright,  
Never saw-”

He trailed off, slumping back on his bed. He had already tried on his livery and posed in the mirror for himself, so he figured there wasn’t a point in trying it all on again. Jimmy didn’t know exactly why he was so eager and delighted to start working the next morning. This wasn’t his dream job, anyway. He wanted to be in the city, living life to the fullest, going to pubs, meeting women and having fun. Regardless, he still felt a tickling in his stomach when thinking about the next morning. 

Jimmy checked his clock. Roughly 3:30am. He sighed, and stared at the ceiling before having a thought. “I’m sure it’s okay just to look around downstairs a bit…” he thought to himself. He felt too giddy just to be locked in his room all night.

He turned the handle to his door ever so quietly, and stepped out into the hall. He dashed down the back staircases, only meant for servants to use, since he didn’t dare sneak around the ornate family rooms. He wondered how sane he was, or if he was subconsciously asking himself to lose his job. Sneaking around his brand new employer’s house at 3am was probably not something most people would do. 

He figured he’d quietly get himself some tea in the kitchen, so he quietly scurried down another flight of stairs down to the downstairs area. At night, it was a bit spooky, and Jimmy almost felt nervous and scared looking around down there. Walking towards the kitchen, he caught something, or someone out of the corner of his eye in the servant’s hall. “Who was up this late?” he pondered, upon realizing he was doing the same thing as them. He stopped in his tracks, and turned the corner. The glowing amber tip of a cigarette wavered in the darkness, and Jimmy put two and two together. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted first.

“What’re you doing down here at this hour?” the man in the shadows asked.

“I could ask the same of you, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy replied, and took a step into the hall. The cigarette’s glow amplified as Thomas took a drag.

“I just came down to get some tea. Why’re you down here?” Jimmy inquired, now curious.

“Go back to bed, Jimmy. Don’t want to be caught downstairs with me.” Thomas said with a sad smile, smoke drifting out of his lips between words. Jimmy furrowed his brow, confused by what he meant.

Thomas sighed, and stood up out of his usual chair, seated at the long table. He turned on a lamp sitting below the vast wall of call bells, cigarette still in hand.

“I-I mean, what’s there to do down here anyway, sittin’ in the dark there like you were? Just seems a little, er, odd, doesn’t it?” Jimmy asked awkwardly. Thomas’ smile had thrown him off guard. Sure, he had seemed nice enough, but for some reason, his whole demeanor still felt a little cold. Seeing him smile like that reassured Jimmy but shocked him at the same time. Jimmy panicked for a moment, wondering if his comment had come off as rude. Before he could apologize, he was cut off again. 

“Go on then, make your tea.” Thomas said softly. Jimmy slowly walked over to the table, sitting across from Thomas’ chair. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jimmy said with a huff. Thomas laughed, sitting back down at his spot across from Jimmy.

“I don’t like answering questions much.” Thomas stated plainly, taking another drag of his cigarette and unfolding a newspaper. Jimmy sat there and thought for a few moments, while Thomas read his articles and took inhales off his cigarette. Thomas looked up for a moment, raising an eyebrow at Jimmy.

“Is there something else you need?” he asked politely. Jimmy’s posture stiffened as he realized he hadn’t spoken for a moment. He usually wasn’t hung up on his words around people. Usually, other people got embarrassed talking to him.

“Oh, er, no. No, I don’t.” he said awkwardly, his cheeks flushing pink. He stood up abruptly, pushed in his chair, and walked quickly into the kitchen. He went into the pantry, taking out the small jar of black tea. He found the alloy kettle in the lower cabinet, and put it on the stovetop. While his water heated, he pondered to himself why he was acting like such a loon. Sleep deprivation, he concluded, must’ve been the reason. Normally, he was very well put together. No one would really call Jimmy clever or sharp witted, exactly, but he was usually at least a little less tense. 

After stirring his tea, he loitered back into the hall, trying to look like he wasn’t making a big deal about it. It’s not like he and Thomas were keeping company together, they just happened to be downstairs at the same time. He figured he could just take his tea upstairs, so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly sit near Thomas again. As he turned to head for the stairs, Thomas lifted his gaze from his newspaper.

“Going up then, are you?” he asked, slicing the silence that had hung in the air for some time. Even though they hadn’t even been in the same room, Jimmy had felt like Thomas was standing right behind him in the kitchen, watching him brew his tea. Actually, when all the servants gathered in the hall earlier that evening after dinner, Jimmy felt as though Thomas’ gaze was heavy on him, peering over his hand of cards and cigarettes. Anna, who Jimmy found to be quite kind, had vaguely mentioned to him how Thomas was sometimes known for “meddling with things”. Ms. O’Brien had informed him otherwise though, so Jimmy didn’t quite know what to think of Thomas at all. Either way, he didn’t want to sit and have a long chat with the man now.

“Yes, I’ll try to get to sleep soon, I suppose. Need lots of rest to face tomorrow.” Jimmy said with a smile. Thomas snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray next to him, watching the glow fade to grey ash. Jimmy turned slightly, ready to go upstairs before the other man spoke again.

“Haven’t gotten to sleep yet at all?” Thomas asked. Jimmy found himself having a conversation with Thomas, even though he had just thought to himself that he should go up and avoid speaking with him. 

“Unfortunately no. Been feeling too much excitement about everything, really. Everything about this new work of mine, y’know.” Jimmy said proudly. He really did feel noble and proud, working in an esteemed house. Sure, it wasn’t the city life he dreamed of, but there was a certain honor that came with being the Earl of Grantham’s footman.

“You won’t feel so high and mighty once Mr. Carson has you clean all the silver first thing in the morning with that ginger egg.” Thomas quipped, which gave Jimmy a laugh. He had only spoken with the other footman, Alfred, a couple times, but Alfred wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s biggest fan. Thomas smiled behind his newspaper, before setting it down on the table in front of him.

“Ah yes, Alfred may drive me crazy down the road.” Jimmy said with a grin, looking at the floor. He looked up again to see that Thomas wasn’t reading anymore, and was looking up at him. Jimmy sighed before sitting back down at the table, across from Thomas.

“Go up if you’d like to, I’m not holding you hostage.” Thomas said. Jimmy sipped his tea and looked up at him with a smile.

“I know that. I wouldn’t mind a chat, though.” he said. The awkward tensity Jimmy held between them had pretty much faded entirely. 

“Ah, may as well light another then.” Thomas said, pulling his pack of cigarettes and lighter back out. He offered one to Jimmy, who declined. He had never been much of a smoker.

The two of them talked for a while, as Thomas took puffs from his cigarette, listening to Jimmy speak of himself for a good while. They played a couple rounds of cards, and talked some more before Jimmy began to finally feel some form of sleepiness. He excused himself, cleaned his teacup, and headed for the stairs as he had intended to 20 minutes or so ago. He stopped in front of the archway of the servant’s hall, looking at Thomas, still sitting in his usual place.

“Goodnight to you then, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy said politely. Thomas smiled and nodded slightly.

“Goodnight to you too, Jimmy.” he replied.

Jimmy crept up all the stairs as quietly as he could manage. Slipping back into his room, he checked the time. 20 minutes speaking with Thomas had actually been an hour. Jimmy sighed before collapsing on his bed. He smiled to himself though, because regardless of how much silver he’d have to clean, he had a solid job, and he had a friend.

He drifted to sleep, dreaming of teacups and playing cards.


	2. a five note scale

The collar of Jimmy’s livery pressed at his neck like a razor, but he stood against the wall of the dining room with self regard, being sure to reflect the family’s class (as Carson had instructed him to). He kept his arms at his sides, and kept his back straight like a soldier. The ambience of forks and knives clinking against porcelain filled the dining hall. The family spoke of plans for the estate, and Jimmy couldn’t help but overhear Lord Grantham’s contrary tone of voice when speaking of the subject. As Carson had also instructed, Jimmy made a small attempt to avoid eavesdropping.

After the dinner was over, Jimmy assisted in cleaning like he normally did. After all that was done, he went back downstairs. He sighed as he walked down the servant’s staircase, feeling an excruciating need to get out of this house. Walking into the servant’s hall, he slumped back into a chair in the corner of the room, and looked around at everyone there. The Bates’ sat together at the table while Anna stitched something for Lady Mary. They sipped tea, looking absolutely content. Absolutely happy. Everything about their lovely life was so very happy. Jimmy was bemused as to how they could be so satisfied with a life like this. While he respected service and respected the family he worked for, thinking about marrying his fellow worker and working in service forever made Jimmy want to jump off a cliff. He didn’t dare think about Mr. Carson or Ms. Hughes’ life without gagging at the boredom of it all.

He wanted to go somewhere other than his dull room. Go out, get drunk, and find a girl at a pub or something. Something a young lad his age would do. Strangely, such a large, grand house like Downton could feel suffocating and claustrophobic. Jimmy was utterly restless. He had been described like this by many people in his life, so he’d learned to embrace it. 

His ambitions, he thought, made him charming. He’d figured out that sweet-talking Ivy could simply consist of talking about running away to a big city and living life to the fullest. He enjoyed doing this quite a bit; the flushed look she got on her face when he made dicey comments towards her gave him a sense of impactfulness. When he spoke of travelling far and drinking champagne, Ivy went into a trance-like state of wonder. Of course it drove Alfred mad, but that was half the reason Jimmy did it at all. The less he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that he could love her. Deep down, though, he wasn’t so sure. Not a question of if he loved her, but if he had the attention span to love anyone at all.

Jimmy sat there for a while, pondering his social situations, until he decided to pull out his deck of cards and play a little solitaire. He noticed Mr. Barrow reading and smoking at the table, and Alfred flipping through a cookbook. Everyone else had already gone up, and Jimmy figured he would go up too. He had been having trouble sleeping, more than he had before. He avoided going downstairs again in the middle of the night though, so he stayed up until unreasonable hours in his room, pacing and humming to himself. 

He wished there was a way he could have a piano in his tiny room, although he knew that wouldn’t happen in a million years, even if there was enough space for one. As a young child, he was supposedly “gifted” in the realm of music. Never learning sheet music, Jimmy could come up with tunes and melodies on the spot at 6 years old. He was indisputably a prodigy, but when Jimmy turned 13, his piano was taken away. His father wanted him to make “a steady form of income” and not get into any green or unprofessional forms of work down the road. Jimmy stopped playing piano for a very long time. He had ended up going into service, and his father was very proud of him for that. His mother had him practice serving dinner to their small family before he left to go work as a footman. Jimmy sat on his bed, reflecting on all of it, and for the first time in a long time, he cried. Sometimes he’d have brief moments of grief like this, remembering his parents and such. 

He distracted himself by playing more solitaire on his bed. Wasn’t worth sobbing over. It was in the past, he told himself again and again. It was in the past. Minutes passed, then hours, although it felt like an eternity. He figured he would go downstairs and get out of his stuffy room, wondering if anyone else would be in the servant’s hall like before. He slipped out the door, and crept downstairs like he had done some nights prior.

Cautiously turning the corner to the hall, he half expected Mr. Barrow to be sitting at the table, smoking and reading the paper like last time. His chair was empty though, so Jimmy entered the dark room. The moon’s glow revealed the edges of dust floating in the air. This room, usually bustling with excitement and conversation, felt placid and still. Jimmy brushed his fingers along the tops of the chairs one by one, down the side of the table, feeling their slight grooves and occasional chips. He halted at the second to last chair, suddenly captivated by an object in the corner of the room.

The piano. 

There it sat, grand and silent, and although it had been cleared of dust by the maids, Jimmy knew for a fact it hadn’t been played in a long time. His limbs tugged forwards, his heart yearning to sit in front of it and play. Jimmy shook his head, and silently told himself off. He hadn’t played in years; a decade, really. It wasn’t proper to play jangly bits of rubbish on the keys. He was a professional man, his father’s work on him wouldn’t be in vain. Yet as soon as he decided to turn away, his eyes pulled him back, until his legs followed through, and Jimmy stood in front of the piano bench. The casket of strings beckoned to him, calling to him. It urged him to play something, anything.

“Alright, alright.” Jimmy whispered to the stately instrument. The piano seemed to giggle and laugh as Jimmy lifted the piano bench and pulled it back, trying to avoid the sound of it screeching. He sat down gently upon the bench, staring at the keys for a moment. Jimmy smiled at the piano. This damn instrument had more loftiness than the family who lived above it. He respected the piano’s pride though, and gently rested his hands on the keys with a sigh. His hands were much bigger now than they used to be, but the familiarity of it all washed over him. Endless musical scapes filled his mind; all the possibilities and stories he could tell. He swallowed, nervous to play anything, and hoping no one would hear him. 

[the piece Jimmy plays](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6IAZOjdefc)

His fingertips grazed over the ivory keys, and his most favorite piece flowed into his memory. He caught his breath as he pressed the first note into existence. Every word his father said was lifted after that note echoed through the hall. He continued, taking deep breaths from slight unease, but surprised at how quickly the piece poured through his mind, neck, arms, hands, and fingers. The music cascaded through him, and he closed his eyes, smiling. His heart soared. Oh, how he had missed this so very much. 

The final measure of the piece came to an end, and Jimmy rested his slightly shaking hands atop the keys. He exhaled softly, surprised at himself for allowing himself to play again. He remembered it all. 

“Didn’t know you were Liszt in disguise.” a voice said from the doorway. Jimmy nearly had a heart attack, as he slammed his hands on the piano and jumped in his seat. He turned around to face Thomas, leaning against the doorframe, cigarette in one hand, and a worn, hardback book in the other, held against his hip. Jimmy pushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and took a shaky breath.

“How… how long were you listening?” Jimmy asked, his voice fading to a whisper, like it was a secret. Thomas smiled, putting the cigarette in his mouth, about to light it. 

“You began when I was almost down the last set of stairs.” he replied, cigarette between his teeth. He cupped his gloved hand around the tip, lighter in one hand. The blaze of the open lighter spread to the cigarette, and Thomas took a deep drag, then let out a sigh, blowing a small cloud of smoke into the doorway. He looked awful proud of himself for it, too. He seemed to be prideful of nearly everything. Jimmy wondered if Thomas was anything like him, and if that pride was a facade.

“So, you heard the whole thing then.” Jimmy said, recollecting himself and sitting upright on the bench, back straight. Thomas was silent for a moment, and Jimmy felt his cheeks grow warm. He hadn’t played in so long. So, so long, and of course someone had to hear him play when he was rusty!

“I did, but I’ll have you know it was lovely. We needed another.”

“Another what?”

Thomas took a drag before responding.

“Another piano player in the downstairs lot. Used to have a footman who played, William. People went on and on about his playing. Half decent, I’d say.” Thomas explained, not seeming too fond of this past pianist.

“Did he leave Downton for the city or something? Get a promotion to a bigger house?” Jimmy asked. He wondered how long it’d been since this William had left the Abbey. What kind of things did he play? What was the piano used to? Thomas stared at the wall by the window for a moment.

“Died from war injuries. Left Daisy a widow.” Thomas said plainly. 

“Oh, I see.” Jimmy said with a nod, slightly embarrassed. He hadn’t known Daisy was ever a romantic. No wonder the piano had sounded sadder than he expected it would. It was still in mourning, he figured. Thomas walked to his usual spot at the table, and sat down quietly. Jimmy didn’t necessarily want to explain his playing to Thomas, but he figured he might as well. He was an easy person to talk to, Jimmy had found.

“I haven’t played in a decade.” Jimmy said to ease the silence. Thomas raised his eyebrows at that.

“Don’t believe you.” Thomas said with a slight smile, looking over at Jimmy but not turning to face him. Jimmy frowned, since he didn’t have the energy to be annoyed.

“S’true. Old man didn’t want a musician as a son. So, I’m in service now, clearly. People used to say I had a talent for the piano thing.” Jimmy said, looking at the ceiling. Thomas exhaled more smoke.

“Should’ve stuck with it. Done it in secret.” Thomas said with a smile, and Jimmy smiled too. A bittersweet smile, thinking about his parents’ absence again. The other man took another drag of his cigarette, and Jimmy wondered if he could go five minutes without one. 

“So, what about your life, then? Got siblings or anything?” Thomas asked, exhaling smoke through his nose and lips as he spoke.

“My father’s died in the war, and my mum died of the flu,” Jimmy started, and Thomas lost his smile. “and I’m an only child, distant cousins are all I’ve got, really.” he finished explaining, and Thomas nodded understandingly.

“Must get lonely.” Thomas said, looking back at Jimmy. He turned on the piano bench to face the other man, rather than talking to a literal wall.

“How do you mean?” Jimmy asked, curiously.

“Just know what it’s like, that’s all.” he replied simply. Jimmy tried to unpack what he meant by it, but didn’t understand.

“Your parents dead too?” he asked bluntly. Thomas smiled slightly and shook his head. His eyes looked sad, Jimmy thought to himself.

“No, no. My family’s big, actually. Had many sisters, one brother. Both parents are alive, they just…” Thomas trailed off, staring at the glowing tip of his cigarette. Jimmy furrowed his brow, concerned. Thomas shook his head, snapping out of whatever state he was in.

“Nevermind, nosy of me to ask.” Jimmy said kindly, standing up from the bench. Thomas turned to look at him, and his eyes followed Jimmy as he began to walk towards the doorway. Thomas cleared his throat briefly.

“Would you care to play another?” he asked Jimmy with a smile. Jimmy felt himself blushing, surprised the other man, or anyone, would’ve made such a request.

“I’ll play again tomorrow. Don’t want to wake the others up.” Jimmy said, but as he stated his declination, he noticed Thomas’ eyes get sad again. He didn’t really change his expression at all. Jimmy noticed they were alike in that way. Thomas didn’t show much plainly on his face, but it was there, and Jimmy was the same way. He turned away from the doorway and sat across from Thomas at the table.

“How about we just chat for a bit, play cards or something?” Jimmy asked with a smile. Thomas smiled too as he smoked, pulling a pack of cards from his pocket and setting them on the table.

They alternated between just talking, and playing rounds of cards, but found they got lost in conversation either way. They talked about nearly everything, from his lordship’s dog to Ms. O’Brien’s bangs. Although he felt a little bad prying, Jimmy did try to change the subject to family past a little bit more. Thomas didn’t seem too open to talking about it either way, especially his father. Jimmy decided he wouldn’t try and question it further.

The hour grew increasingly late, until both men realized the scullery maid would be coming around to wake people up in just one hour.

“Would you like to get a blink of rest, then?” Thomas asked Jimmy, tapping the tip of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table. Jimmy hummed with thought, wondering if it was even worth it to try and sleep now.

“Dunno yet, you?” Jimmy asked him. Thomas just shrugged.

“Been without sleep for longer.” He said with a slight smile. Jimmy glanced over at the piano, which was radiating pride, which Jimmy assumed was from the joy of being played again. Just looking at the instrument filled his head with ideas of what to play, and what stories he’d tell, and which pedals he’d use with which chords and-

“Jimmy? You alright over there?” Thomas asked with a tiny laugh. Jimmy whipped his head around, startled. His cheeks glowed pink, and he hoped that the man sitting across from him didn’t notice.

“S-Sorry, got lost in thought.” he explained, and Thomas took another drag of his cigarette with a smile. Jimmy watched the smoke fall from his lips, swirling the aroma of tobacco and ash around the table. He wondered why he ever started that habit. Didn’t ever seem to have a damn cigarette out of his hands.

“You should teach me.” Thomas said, exhaling smoke, and gesturing to the piano with his cigarette. Jimmy laughed, leaning his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his hand. 

“I’m serious! Not like I have any talents elsewhere. You aren’t going to bed, are you?” Thomas inquired. Jimmy shook his head.

“Teach me something, then.” he insisted further. Jimmy grinned, and they both stood up to go over to the piano bench. The piano beamed in the dark, and Jimmy rubbed its fallboard reassuringly. He sat in the middle of the bench, and Thomas stood behind him, watching intently as Jimmy’s hands swept over the piano keys slowly. 

“So, eight notes in an octave,” Jimmy began, tracing his fingers over the instrument. “And this here’s what’s called ‘middle C’, the very center note of the piano.” he explained, and looked over his shoulder to see Thomas nod in understandment. Jimmy played a simple five note scale, and repeated it slower for Thomas to see clearer. 

“Every note goes up a full step to the next letter, so C, D, E, et cetera,” he said as he played each note. Thomas leaned down over Jimmy’s shoulder, stretching his hand over the keys as well.

“So, like this?” Thomas asked, almost at a whisper, repeating the scale Jimmy had previously shown him. Jimmy swallowed tensely. He could feel Thomas’ breath against his neck, and a small chill ran down his spine. He scooted awkwardly to the side on the bench, nodding. Jimmy figured that Thomas didn’t realize what he was doing, or maybe he was just reading too much into it. Anything close to… that subject was unthinkable.

“Uhm, y-yes, that’s good.” Jimmy said, cheeks flushing scarlet for the millionth time tonight. Thomas smiled to himself, repeating the melody a couple more times slowly. 

“Oh, it’s five thirty already. Might head up and rest for a moment before getting ready.” Thomas said, walking back over to the table to collect his ashtray and book that he never got around to reading.

“Ah, good plan.” Jimmy said with a smile, standing up as well, and silently wishing the piano a goodnight. Although his nerves were still on edge, he wasn’t tired. The idea of facing work all day was not something Jimmy was looking forward to.

“How will I manage tomorrow with no sleep at all? Mr. Carson’ll have my head at some point, I’m sure.” Jimmy fretted, rubbing the back of his neck as he often did when he was nervous. Thomas turned to look at him from across the room, giving a reassuring smile.

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t drink too much tea to wake yourself up or you’ll get jittery.”

“I know how drinking tea works, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy groused, running his fingers through his hair. Thomas grinned at that comment, clearly finding it funnier than Jimmy did. 

Thomas walked to the door, carrying his things, as he watched how anxious Jimmy seemed, still standing next to the piano. He stopped in the doorway, looking at him.

“You coming?” he questioned, and Jimmy let out a forced laugh.

“Uh, yes. Coming up now.” he said nervously, and followed Thomas to the doorway.

Jimmy’s thoughts rattled inside his brain, bouncing back and forth and overlapping. “No, no. Don’t freak out now. Not now Jimmy, not now.” he urged himself in his head. Nothing had happened! He only stayed up for hours and hours with a man who had been millimeters from his neck earlier, to the point where Jimmy could feel the heat of his skin-

“Jimmy, you alright?” a voice said, who Jimmy knew was Thomas from the doorway, but sounded like it was coming from everywhere around him. He was having another one of his freakouts. He stood halfway between the piano and the door, frozen in place, thoughts swirling. This is how it started. This is how it always started. He would collapse any minute now, and cry and scream and be such a nuisance to everyone around him and his mother would be so worried and his father would call the doctor who couldn’t diagnose quite what it was and-

“Jimmy, can you hear me?” a voice said, this time close to him. Jimmy felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him. He backed away blindly, stumbling over a chair.

“J-just, let me have a moment, please.” Jimmy stammered, tears in his eyes. His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. He felt it - Jimmy Kent’s personal hurricane. His cool exterior would never cover these breakdowns. Ivy would never fancy him if she saw him like this. If anyone knew, if anyone found out. If Carson knew, God help him. He’d be sacked, no doubt. What was there to be panicking over? It’s nothing. It’s fine. Everything is fine. The more he told himself he was fine, the panic rose faster. Like a tub filling with water, and Jimmy was trapped beneath it, just watching the dread surrounding every limb and rising to his lungs and throat until he was blind and deaf and he couldn’t breathe and he-

Thomas had worry stitched all over his face, standing frozen in the doorway, and his want, his need to help Jimmy was so unbearable. This was his fault, wasn’t it? Jimmy backed himself against a wall, and slid down until he sat curled up on the floor. Thomas practically ran over to him, but tried to keep a relative distance so he wouldn’t overwhelm him more.

“Do y-you need a doctor? Please, can I do something to help?” Thomas pleaded, wanting more than anything to fix whatever this was. Jimmy rocked back and forth slightly, head down, not speaking. Thomas swallowed tensely, realizing the questions probably stressed him out more. He moved slowly and gradually, before sitting next to Jimmy about 2 feet away, back against the wall. He didn’t want to push it too far on a new friend that he could so easily lose, so he played it safe.

“I’ll stay here, long as you need. Won’t tell a soul.” he said faintly, trying to reassure Jimmy without intimidating him at all. The air was heavy, and the tension was held, suspended midair. Jimmy counted to 10 slowly, over and over again in his mind. He relaxed slightly, unfurrowing his brow and lifting his head.

“I’m… I’m sor-”

“No, don’t say that. Don’t get soppy.” Thomas interrupted, trying to bring up the mood slightly. Jimmy sat up straighter, relaxing posture.

“What’s your book?” Jimmy gestured to the novel Thomas had abandoned on the table before he had run over to try and help him. Thomas looked surprised by this inquiry.

“Oh, uh, called ‘Bertram Cope’s Year’. Good, just slightly campy at times, y’know?” Thomas opined. Jimmy nodded in understanding. They rested there together, on the floor, beneath the window, in silence. Jimmy felt a single, hushed tear slip down his face. He hoped that the man next to him didn’t notice. All of this was so… improper, wasn’t it? He closed his eyes, and sighed, admittedly very fatigued. Thomas turned his head to look at him, noticing that Jimmy would probably fall asleep right then and there if he was left to himself.

“Jimmy, c’mon now, let’s go up.” Thomas urged, being careful not to touch him as he stood up. Jimmy groaned sleepily, and stood up too. Thomas collected his things from the table, heading for the dark stairs. Jimmy cleared his throat, his voice shaky.

“Mr. Barrow… thank you.” 

“No thanks needed.”

Thomas gave a somber smile before turning to go upstairs, and Jimmy followed.


	3. a scratched candlestick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading <3  
> i know it takes me a while to update (school sucks) but i'm writing as quickly as i can :)  
> my outline for this fic is showing roughly 7 more chapters, but that might change!  
> thanks for the support <3

2 weeks later

“Is this true, James?” Mr. Carson boomed, seated in the chair behind his desk. His figure behind that desk was one of the most intimidating things Jimmy had witnessed. 

“Y-yes, Mr. Carson, but I can explain myself.”

“I surely hope you would!”

Jimmy noticed the little cracks and divots in the wooden floor of Carson’s office as he stood before his desk, Alfred standing to his left. The second footman seemed rather proud of himself, as he had (of course) been the one to report Jimmy to their boss. The first footman, who probably wouldn’t be the first footman much longer, drew in a breath.

“I didn’t get the best of sleep, woke up with, er, pains… in the middle of the night,” Jimmy began, and he watched Carson raise a bushy eyebrow. “My wrist, you see. Hurting awfully bad.” Jimmy tried to maneuver his way out of the apparently awful thing he’d done, but Mr. Carson didn’t seem too convinced. 

“You didn’t get a full rest because your… wrist hurt, causing you to drop the candlestick you were polishing today?” Carson slowly repeated the story given to him, and although he didn’t show it with a smile, Alfred beamed. 

“Y-Yes, Mr. Carson. I’m afraid the lack of sleep has impacted my performance.” Jimmy said meekly, realizing it wasn’t much of an excuse. All he had done was drop a candlestick. Sure, it got a nasty scratch, but the family had an entire silver pantry. He didn’t see the point in mourning over one scratched candlestick. At Jimmy’s attempt at an explanation, Alfred did smile a bit. Carson looked between the two of them, before speaking.

“Alfred, you may go.” his voice was as stern as ever, even for his obvious favorite footman. Alfred shot Jimmy a smile as he left Carson’s office. Jimmy fought back the urge to respond.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Carson. Won’t happen again, and,” Jimmy swallowed, wishing he wouldn’t say what he was about to say. “and… I’ll pick up any extra work where it’s needed.” he finished, regretting it immediately. Many people described Jimmy as lazy, but he preferred not to see it that way. He didn’t want to spend all his time working, or it would potentially hinder him from amazing life changing experiences (which for him thus far were mocking Alfred or flirting with Ivy).

Carson let out a sigh, resting his gently clasped hands on his desk. Jimmy looked at those hands, and noticed no ring. “So you didn’t ever settle either…” Jimmy thought to himself. Was every man in service married to their jobs like this? Carson, Mr. Molesley, Mr. Barrow, though Mr. Barrow wasn’t nearly as old as those other two. Jimmy immediately shoved any thoughts of Mr. Barrow out of his mind. Either way, none of them except Mr. Bates has found a girl to marry, and Mr. Bates hardly counted, considering the girl he married was right there in Downton with him. Jimmy wondered if they had any time left to find someone. Surely Molesley would, somehow. He was goofy, but kind enough, and not so old that he couldn’t manage to find a lady. Mr. Carson, Jimmy wasn’t so sure. The man’s rigid voice interrupted Jimmy’s thoughts.

“While I do appreciate, and am quite… surprised… by your offer, I don’t think that will be necessary.” 

Jimmy let out a breath of relief. 

“I’m sure you know what this means for your position, James.” Carson said, removing his hands from the desk and placing them in his lap. Jimmy bit his lip nervously. He forced himself to think realistically. Mr. Carson wouldn’t _sack_ him for this, surely. Or would he? No, no, he wouldn’t. Jimmy tossed thoughts back and forth in his brain, while Carson stared at him. Jimmy realized he expected an answer.

“Yes, sir, I do.” Jimmy lied, not actually knowing what would become of his job. Carson placed his palms on the desk firmly, as if he was concluding the whole conversation with a pat on wood. 

“Right. I’ll inform Alfred he is now first footman, and you know where you stand. You may go.” he stated with his signature tone.

“Thank you, Mr. Carson.”

As he left his boss’s office, the weight of doom settled over Jimmy’s shoulders. He’s done it now. Really done it now. Carson wasn’t specific, most likely meaning he was through. Fired. Sacked. “Careless Jimmy, stupid Jimmy, reckless Jimmy.” he scolded himself in his mind as he stood outside Carson’s door. He didn’t know how he’d inform his fellow servants that he’d lost his job because of a dumb tall _ginger_. If he was going to leave Downton, he’d rather it be for a really good reason. But here he was, seemingly sacked for a scratched piece of silver. He supposed Carson would fill him in on the details later, but Jimmy knew Lady Mary would call for tea soon, and he had no choice now but to keep working till the day’s end.

Jimmy turned the corner, going into the kitchen, feeling heat creep onto his cheeks as Alfred and Daisy giggled behind the counter at him. Ivy stood by the sink, looking very displeased. Sad, even. Jimmy wasn’t the type to get embarrassed. He put on a happy face rather than a flushed pink one, and reached for a biscuit off a tray on the counter. He could’ve sworn Daisy’s eyes turned darker.

“Don’t you dare!” she scolded, storming over to him and whacking the back of his palm.

“Ow! What’s all that for?” Jimmy piped, pulling his hand away from the tray, feeling the stinging warmth that Daisy’s smack left. 

“First thing you do after being scolded by Carson for being a lousy worker is steal a biscuit! No wonder Alfred is his favorite.” Daisy said tartly, but sweetened her tone as she spoke of Alfred. Picking up the tray and moving it away from him, she glared at Jimmy, still rubbing the back of his hand. Ivy followed Daisy with her eyes as she scrubbed a pan in the sink.

“Well I don’t think he’s a lousy worker, I think he’s wonderful!” Ivy cooed, and turned to look at him. 

“Ask the silver and they’ll disagree.” Alfred said with a smirk, looking prideful. Daisy giggled at this comment, returning to his side. Jimmy almost felt bad for her, watching her be madly in love with someone who feels nothing in return. At the end of the day though, he couldn’t possibly understand pining for Alfred of all people. Jimmy huffed, passing by him towards the servant’s hall, but Ivy spoke up towards him. 

“Jimmy, if I were you, I’d move away from here and never look back.” she said dreamily, clearly imagining herself in the New York streets that she often dulled everybody with imagery of. Jimmy rolled his eyes, not meaning to be rude, but even if he was rude, he didn’t really care. Normally he’d respond with more American fantasies, and take her hand and spin her around until Ms. Patmore came in and barked at him. He didn’t have the energy to flirt now. Wasn’t likely he’d see her again after he leaves. He already decided that when he does leave soon, he’ll go far, far from here. America, if he can. 

“You aren’t funny, you know.” he said, and Alfred rolled his eyes, watching Jimmy leave. Jimmy wondered if anyone would be even slightly sad when he leaves. Would anyone tell him sorry and that he’d be missed? Daisy clearly knew what happened but didn’t bat an eye, and luckily Jimmy didn’t care either way what Alfred thought of him. He walked into the servant’s hall to see everyone where they usually were on their short breaks, the Bates’ at the table, O’Brien not to be seen, but everyone knew she was outside smoking. Mr. Barrow stayed inside to smoke, sitting in the armchair in the corner. 

Jimmy hadn’t spoken with Mr. Barrow since… that night. The night that Jimmy let himself be vulnerable and show what was underneath his layers and layers of charm and humor. He had been so good. So, so good about not letting that part of him show to anyone. And now, Mr. Barrow knew. He more than _knew_ , he had helped Jimmy that night. Sat with him, talked to him, like he knew exactly what to do. Jimmy hated how comfortable he had felt, sitting next to him. And the piano…

Jimmy turned all his thoughts immediately off, pushing any thoughts about that night out of his mind. He wouldn’t speak to Mr. Barrow now, and he wouldn’t in the future either. Not even now, when he was going to leave Downton.

He didn’t want to make a scene by going up to his room, and he certainly didn’t want to play piano in front of people, not yet. He figured he’d go outside, and Ms. O’Brien would be there, but he didn’t care. Anna was the only one who lifted her head when he turned around to leave the room he had just entered.

“Jimmy, you alright?” she asked him. Anna was sweet, she’d always been kind to him since he arrived at Downton. Mr. Bates acted fairly neutral with him, but Jimmy could tell that Mr. Bates didn’t like him very much. He didn’t mind. People either loved him or hated him. It seemed there was no in between.

“Yes, thank you. Just getting fresh air.” Jimmy replied with a smile. Mr. Barrow lifted his head then. “I’m not freaking out. _Please_ know you don’t have to help me.” Jimmy pleaded in his mind. He hoped somehow the other man would hear him. Jimmy turned around and headed for the door to the servant’s courtyard. 

The brisk air hit his face and tingled his cheeks as he stepped outside. Ms. O’Brien wasn’t here, which he found odd. He rested his back against the chilled cobblestone, and slid down to sit on the ground with his knees to his chest, mirroring what he had done a couple weeks ago… but he shoved those thoughts out of his memories. The coldness of the ground comforted him. Jimmy usually hated the cold. He loathed it, really. Why shiver when you could soak up rays of golden sun? He got a nice tan in summer. Girls liked it. He stayed there, breathing slowly against the wall. Thankfully the ground he was sitting on was dry enough to not ruin his livery. The thoughts started leaking in. Where was he going to go? He couldn’t even afford a trip to America, realistically. He had to get out of Yorkshire. Had to get out of _here_ -

The servant’s door creaked open, but Jimmy didn’t turn his head. He knew it was Ms. O’Brien. She was one of the only people that came out here, from what he had seen.

“Anna is worried.” came a voice that wasn’t low and brassy like Ms. O’Brien, but a voice that was deep and would be almost intimidating, if Jimmy didn’t know any better. He looked up to see Mr. Barrow in the doorway, almost looking… worried.

“You… you don’t need to be here.” Jimmy said wobbly. Why couldn’t he just be his normal self around this man? Thomas shook his head slowly, as if dismissing what he said at all.

“I know that. I’m here to tell you that Anna is worried.” he repeated. “Ah, he’s saying that _he_ doesn’t care, just Anna does.” Jimmy thought to himself. His cheeks grew rosy, not just from the cold air. He hoped that Thomas didn’t notice. Jimmy let out a sigh.

“I’ve been sacked.” he stated plainly, looking across the courtyard instead of at Thomas. He started laughing, and Jimmy glared at him. He was getting fired, and nobody cared. They thought it was hilarious!

“Why are you la-“ 

“You’re not sacked, you idiot.” Thomas interrupted, still laughing a tiny bit in between his words. Jimmy stared at him blankly, his mouth slightly open. He… he wasn’t? Jimmy tried to find the words he wanted to say. He had never seen Mr. Barrow laugh, not since that night they talked for hours...

“Carson just told Alfred he's the first footman, and now, you’re second footman, because of whatever you did.” Thomas explained, laying it out for Jimmy. He nodded. 

“Oh, right.” was all he said in response. A smile touched the corners of Jimmy’s mouth, and Thomas stepped away from the doorway.

“Come back inside, then.” Thomas said, and Jimmy leaned his head against the brick wall behind him, looking at the sky.

“Might stay here for a moment, if I can.” Jimmy said with a smile.

“Well, you can’t. Lady Mary will call for tea soon.” 

Jimmy found it relatively easy, talking with him again. Not nearly as weird as he thought it would be. He half expected Thomas to ask him out of nowhere why he acted like a lunatic that night, but Jimmy knew he wouldn’t. He was seemingly letting it go, and Jimmy couldn’t be more grateful. 

“James, come back inside. You start really slacking now, and you may actually get Carson to fire you.” Mr. Barrow said, this time sounding closer to a command than a friendly suggestion. Jimmy eased himself off the ground, and brushed his legs free of any dry dirt that clung to the trousers of his livery. Thomas moved out of the way so Jimmy could go inside. The warm air brushed against his face as he made his way inside. The kitchen was beginning to prepare for dinner now, getting clanky pans set up, Ms. Patmore barking ingredient lists at Ivy, and all the usual things they did. Jimmy turned around after walking a few feet, to see Mr. Barrow still in the doorway, finding a cigarette tin in his pocket.

“Are you coming too, Thomas?” Jimmy asked, still slightly hesitant to use his first name. Thomas put a cigarette to his lips, but spoke before putting it between them.

“Mr. Barrow to you.” he reminded Jimmy, and then lit his cigarette. Jimmy cleared his throat and nodded awkwardly.

“And no,” Thomas took a drag. “You’ve got to go upstairs in a moment, but I don’t.” The smoke of his exhale flowed between his lips into the icy air as he spoke. Jimmy watched the smoke dissolve into the air, and he nodded in understanding.

“A little brisk to stay out there a while, isn’t it?” Jimmy inquired. Thomas smiled slightly, shaking his head.

“I’ve always loved the cold.”

Jimmy smiled at this, before giving him a quick nod, and leaving him to go back inside.


End file.
